by Kat Martin
“Shower’s free,” she said as she walked into the living room. Hawk took one look at her puffy eyes and pale face and headed for the bathroom.
“I’ll go first,” he said, closing the bedroom door behind him and leaving the two of them alone.
Bran didn’t look much better, his features drawn, hair mussed, his jaw dark with a night’s growth of beard.
“Sorry about last night,” he said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She looked into his handsome, beloved face, and clamped down on a surge of emotion. “It’s just...it’s everything that’s happened. I think we should let Tripp and Larkin handle things from here. I think...think it’s time for us to go home.”
Bran just shook his head. “Until Weaver is dealt with and Holloway is in custody, you’re not safe.”
There was something different about him this morning, a darkness in his eyes, a tough, hard edge in the set of his jaw. She remembered seeing him that way before, but not for some time.
She smoothed the ends of the hair she had plaited into a braid and tossed it over her shoulder. “I don’t know how much more of this I can stand.”
The phone rang. Both of them glanced around in search of their cells. It was Brandon’s. He grabbed it off the dining table. “Garrett.”
“It’s Charles Frazier, Brandon. I found the bastard. The rotten, no good traitor was right there in my office.”
“Hold on, Charles. Let me put you on speaker.”
Jessie moved closer. “Go ahead, Charles.”
“The man who covered up the theft of the weapons? It was my assistant, Andrew Horton. It looks like he set the whole thing up. He’s young and aggressive, one of the brightest computer minds I’ve ever worked with. He’s only twenty-five years old. It never occurred to me he could be capable of something like that.”
“How did you find him?” Jessie asked.
“Bran’s friend, Tabitha, is a wonder. A genius, really. She sent me some software. We figured a way to put it to work, to link it with the information we had here—and there it was. Andrew’s signature all over the dark web auction. He managed the shipments, collected the payments, all of it. He also opened the Cayman Islands account in Colonel Kegan’s name.”
Hearing information that could clear her father, Jessie felt a surge of hope.
“So Horton was working with Mara Ramos and the terror cell in San Diego?” Bran asked.
“I don’t know anything about that. I just know he covered up the theft. He did such a good job it’s a miracle I found it in the first place. There’s a problem though.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” Bran asked.
“Horton left on vacation three days ago. He isn’t due back until next week.”
Bran softly cursed. “He must have been feeling the heat.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“So how does Holloway fit in?”
“You’re convinced he’s involved?” Frazier asked.
“Oh, yeah, he’s in it up to his lying, murdering eyebrows.”
“I’m afraid that’s over my head,” Frazier said. “Computers are my expertise, not people.”
Jessie looked up to see Maddox standing a few feet away, his hair still wet from the shower, damp patches on the dark blue Henley stretched over his massive chest.
“Seems like rotten people have a way of sniffing each other out,” Hawk said. “Like they give off the same foul odor.”
Frazier made a sound of agreement. “What should I do about Horton?”
“Do you trust De La Garza?” Bran asked. Frazier’s direct superior and the head of the civilian side of the plant.
“I believe so. But then I trusted Andy.”
“Go see De La Garza. I’ll call William Larkin and Special Agent Tripp at the CID. Enough people know, there’s no way to cover it up.”
“All right, then. That’s what I’ll do.” Frazier hung up the phone.
“Sort of like we’re going public,” Jessie said to the men standing around the dining table.
“Exactly,” Bran agreed. “You call Tripp. I’ll call Larkin.”
The calls set everything in motion. With De La Garza involved and the CID searching for Andrew Horton, things were moving even faster than before.
It was the end of the day when Special Agent Tripp phoned Jessie back. She put the call on speaker.
“Good news,” Tripp said. “Frazier gave us some intel that helped us go deeper into the bank in Cayman. Two more accounts showed up. One in the name of Andrew Horton and one in the name of Samuel Holloway.”
“No way!” Bran said. “Those idiots put money in the same bank they used to set up Colonel Kegan?”
“Arrogance knows no bounds,” Tripp said. “Horton opened all the accounts the same day. Neither he nor Holloway ever thought they’d be suspects. If it hadn’t been for Jessie, they never would have been.”
“So the accounts contained millions of dollars?” Jessie asked.
“That’s right. Whatever was left after paying whoever was involved. Holloway has been arrested. We haven’t found Andrew Horton, but it’s just a matter of time.”
“What about the rest of the missing chemical weapons?” Jessie asked.
“We’ll be pressing for answers. From what we can tell, the second batch of weapons was a little side deal that Horton was involved in, but Holloway knew nothing about.”
Jessie felt a rush of anger for her dad.
“We pick up Horton,” Tripp continued, “we’ll find out who bought the weapons. Once we know that, we can figure out where they are.”
By the time the call came to a close, Jessie’s excitement had faded and fatigue had taken its place. Too many long days and sleepless nights. Too much heartache.
“Tripp and Larkin are working the case,” she said wearily. “It feels like our part in it is over and it’s time for us to go home.” She didn’t look at Brandon. Bran didn’t look at her.
“No reason to stay in Colorado Springs,” he said. “Let’s pack up and get out of here.”
Jessie didn’t argue. The urge to go home was stronger than ever.
She wondered if her apartment would actually feel like home when Brandon wasn’t there.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Hawk turned in the rented Jeep at the Colorado Springs Airport and caught a direct flight back to Dallas. Bran loaded his and Jessie’s bags into her Honda, and they headed for Denver.
All morning Bran had listened to Jessie trying to convince him to leave with Maddox, but that was not going to happen. No matter the torture he felt being near her, he owed it to her brother to make sure she was safe.
He figured Weaver and Holloway were too busy trying to save their asses to still be much of a threat. But Detective Porter had called to confirm Ray Cummings’s fingerprints were found on the Valentine’s card, on the windowsill, and other places in Jessie’s apartment. The guy wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was stalking her. Unfortunately, Cummings was in the wind.
Until he was back in jail, no way was Bran leaving Jessie alone.
They arrived at her apartment late in the day, and he spent the night on her couch. A miserable night thinking of Jessie in bed in the other room. He was used to having her curled up against him, used to her reaching out to him in the night, used to reaching for her. The sex was always incredible between them. He didn’t think Jessie would argue with that.
Funny how it had ended, with him wanting more and Jessie just wanting to be free of him. He ignored the ache in his chest.
It was late the next morning, neither of them talking. Bran was tired. Jessie was skirting him, trying to keep her distance. She finally gave up, clamped her hands on her hips and glared at him as he rinsed his coffee mug and set it on the counter in her tiny kitchen.
“You can’t just sit in
my apartment all day waiting for Cummings to show up.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “What’s the matter? Can’t get rid of me fast enough?”
Jessie glanced away. “That isn’t it and you know it.” She looked back at him. “I know you just want to protect me. We’re friends. Good friends. As far as I’m concerned, we always will be.”
His jaw clenched so hard it hurt, and something snapped inside him. Gripping her shoulders, he dragged her hard against him. Her eyes widened as his mouth crushed down over hers.
The kiss was rough and demanding, unapologetic. He kissed her until the stiffness went out of her body and she was clinging to his neck, kissing him back.
He eased her away, drawing her eyes to his face. “I’ll never be that kind of friend, Jess. I don’t want to be, and I don’t really think you want that, either.” He kissed her again, softly this time. “We’re more than friends, even if you won’t admit it.”
Tears filled her eyes. Turning, she walked a few feet away, then turned back. “You’re right, okay? Is that what you want to hear? We’re more than friends. I love you, Brandon. It doesn’t change anything.”
He stared at her for long moments. She loved him? He wondered if that could possibly be true. He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw.
“Maybe I never had a chance, you know? Like I was never supposed to have you. Danny’s dead. I’m alive. It wouldn’t be right for me to end up with his beautiful sister.”
Her hand came out of nowhere, cracking hard against his cheek. “Don’t say that! Don’t you ever say that again!”
Anger burned through him. “What the hell, Jess?”
“Danny would want you to be happy! I want you to be happy! You deserve it more than anyone I know.”
Emotion clogged his chest. “You make me happy, Jess.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “Come back to Dallas with me.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t.”
“My condo’s big enough for both of us. Hell, it’s big enough for you and me and half the neighborhood. We’re good together. Say you’ll come home with me.”
She just shook her head.
Anger seeped back in. “Fine. I’m going for a walk. I need some air. My revolver’s on the side table. Consider it a gift. I won’t be gone long.” He had to get out of there, had to get himself back together. “Lock the door behind me.”
Grabbing his down jacket off the coat rack, he shrugged it on over the Glock at his waist and walked out into the hall, heading for the stairs instead of the elevator.
Jessie had said she loved him. Well, he sure as hell loved her. But she didn’t want him—not enough.
As he walked out into a cold day and icy wind, his resolve strengthened. He’d made a fool of himself, but he was through with that now.
Pulling up the collar on his jacket, Bran shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
* * *
Jessie heard the doorbell ring. Hallie had called. She was downtown and wanted to stop by. Jessie dried her eyes and went over to check the peephole. Turning the dead bolt, she opened the door.
Hallie took one look at her pale, tear-ravaged face and pulled her into a hug. “It’s all right, sweetie. Hallie’s here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Her throat ached. Jessie sniffed back tears. “I’m sorry. Everything’s just so screwed up.” She held on to her best friend’s hand as they walked over and sat down on the sofa.
“Bran’s upset. Everything’s a mess. I’m really glad you came over.”
“Me, too. Now...tell me what’s going on.”
Jessie sighed. “Brandon asked me to go back to Dallas and live with him.”
Hallie grinned. “That’s great!”
“No, it’s not.”
“Why not? You’re crazy about him. An idiot can see that.”
“I’m in love with him.” Her eyes burned. “God, I love him so much.” She wiped at the tears slipping down her cheeks.
“I don’t get it. If you love him, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is I can’t handle the kind of life he lives. Bran’s a warrior. He thrives on danger. The jobs he takes? He could be killed at any time. I’ve had enough of death. My mom, my brother, my father. I want a man who’s going to live till he’s ninety. Someone who’ll be there for me, our kids, and our grandkids.”
Hallie squeezed her hand and rose from the sofa. “I’m making us some jasmine tea. Then we’ll talk.”
Setting out Jessie’s antique porcelain teapot and gold-rimmed cups and saucers, she filled the kettle and set it on the stove. When the tea was ready, she carried the tray into the living room, rested it on the coffee table, and poured them each a cup.
“Thanks.” Jessie added a lump of sugar and took a sip.
Hallie sipped her tea, then set the cup back in its saucer. “You said you loved Brandon. Does he love you?”
“He didn’t say, but...”
“Yes or no.”
“I think he loves me. For a guy like him, it was huge to ask me to move to Dallas with him.”
“You said before he was too honorable to cheat on you.”
She toyed with the delicate handle on the cup. “Danny said he wasn’t a one-man woman, but Bran’s older now. I don’t believe he’d cheat.”
“You need to think this through, Jess. You’re afraid Brandon’s line of work will get him killed. But your mom died of a stroke. True, your brother was killed in the army, but your dad was murdered. It shouldn’t have happened but it did.”
Hallie set her cup and saucer down on the coffee table. “What I’m trying to say is there’s no way to know who’s going to live, who’s going to die, or when it’s going to happen. If you love someone, you have to hold on to them with everything you’ve got. Hiding yourself away, hoping nothing bad will happen, isn’t going to work. You might as well be happy with someone you love for as long as you can.”
Jessie just sat there. It made sense. How could it possibly make sense?
“Danny was killed in the same battle as Brandon,” Hallie went on. “Danny died. Brandon lived. Your father had been out of the fighting for years. But he still died too soon. Don’t you see?”
She looked at Hallie, her heart beginning to thrum with a feeling of hope. “Oh, God. What if you’re right?”
“About living and dying? I am right. I can’t tell you what you should do, but you need to think about it. Think really hard, Jess. If Brandon is anything like Ty, he guards his feelings. He isn’t the kind of man who would fall in love easily, and if I’m right, he won’t fall out easily, either.”
Jessie’s teacup rattled in her lap. “I rejected him, Hallie. I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who forgives easily, either.”
“If he loves you, he’ll forgive you.” Hallie rose and so did Jessie. “I’ve got to go. We’re on an eleven-thirty American flight to LAX day after tomorrow. I’ve got a couple of things to pick up for the kids, then I need to pack, get back to Evergreen, and get everyone organized.” She grinned. “I’m so excited.”
Jessie smiled. “I’m really glad it’s working out for you and Ty.”
“Me, too. We’re already practically living together and Ty wants more. We just seem to click. I’ve got the greatest guy and two super-great kids—and I owe it all to you.”
Jessie walked Hallie to the door, leaned over and hugged her. “Thanks for the advice.”
Hallie smiled. “What are friends for?” Turning, she headed into the hall, waving as she hurried for the elevator.
Jessie closed the door and turned the lock, her mind spinning with what her friend had said. She was in love with Brandon. Was she brave enough to risk losing him in order to share a life with him? She couldn’t stand the thought of him being killed, but losing him now was nearly as painful. And as Hallie had said, ther
e was no way to know the future.
She was picking up the cups and saucers, carrying the tray into the kitchen, when she heard the sound of shattering glass in the bedroom. Dear God!
She knew exactly who it was, and fear shot through her. Setting down the tray, she ran for the side table and grabbed the revolver, whirled and pointed it two-handed toward the open bedroom door.
Her heart was racing, her legs trembling. Jessie steeled herself. Bracing her feet slightly apart, she took careful aim as the man of her nightmares strolled into the living room.
* * *
His jaw clenched in resignation, Bran climbed the stairs back to Jessie’s third-floor apartment. He was done. Finished. He loved Jessie, but it wasn’t enough. It was time to go back to Dallas. He’d hire twenty-four-hour protection till Ray Cummings was back in custody.
He topped the last stair and headed down the hall. Who had he been kidding? Getting out of Jessie’s life was the best thing for both of them. He was supposed to be protecting Danny’s sister—not falling in love with her.
He pulled out the key she had given him and unlocked the door. As his fingers circled the knob, the muffled sound of a man’s voice reached him.
“Put the gun down, Jessica. We both know you aren’t going to shoot me.”
Fucking Ray Cummings. Fury burned through him. Reaching beneath his jacket, he drew his Glock from the holster on his belt. Icy calm settled over him the way it always did, his mind sharpening, senses honing, giving him the control he needed. He quietly turned the knob and eased the door open a crack.
Jessie stood in the living room, his revolver gripped in both her hands. “Leave, Ray. Do it now, while you still have the chance. Come one step closer, I’ll pull the trigger.”
Cummings stood in the bedroom doorway, six feet tall, dark brown hair, a nasty smirk on his face. He was pointing a big semiauto at Jessie. It was all Bran could do not to just shoot him.
“I’ve got a gun, too, Jessica,” Cummings said. “Put your pistol down and I won’t have to use it.”